Chapter 1

On the first day my name went up on the public results board, my roommate suddenly kicked the leg of my stool, his eyes bloodshot to a frightening degree.

"You dumbass, you scored dead last on the written test. How the hell did you get hired?"

I rubbed my arm, still sore from wrestling that bison to the ground yesterday, and frowned, genuinely puzzled.

"Can't I have turned it around in the interview?"

Classmates were already drifting over.

"Yeah, the civil-service exam is the fairest thing there is. If he nailed the interview, a comeback like that is totally normal."

Lowell Henson jabbed at the results list on his laptop, worked up.

"First place beat you by thirty points on the written test. The interview counts for forty percent of the total. To flip that, you'd have needed to beat first place by at least forty-five points in the interview."

"Even if you scored a perfect hundred and first place scored a sixty, his total would still beat yours. And yet you're the one who got hired. This is rigged, no question about it!"

The room went off like a firecracker.

"Damn, seriously? People can pull strings even on the civil-service exam? That's disgusting!"

"Thomas Fox always looked like such an honest guy. Who knew he was this dirty behind the scenes!"

Every set of eyes on me shifted from confusion to fury, as if I'd stolen the bread off their tables and wrecked their lives. Looking at that crowd whipping itself up, I suddenly laughed.

Were they all blind? Had none of them seen the special requirement for this post, that you had to subdue a bison bare-handed?

Of the three who made it to the interview, I was the only one who could do it.

"..."

I pointed at Lowell's laptop.

"How about you all take a look at the actual requirements for this post?"

The civil-service exam had always been fair and aboveboard, the best shot ordinary people had at a stable life, so I understood their anger.

Lowell gave a cold snort.

He lifted the laptop and read it out loud, deliberately, one word at a time, cranking up his voice.

"This post requires a male applicant, height no less than one hundred eighty centimeters, weight no less than ninety kilograms."

He slammed the laptop down on the desk, furious.

"See? What post has this many restrictions? This is a slot custom-built for you, isn't it?"

He turned to face the crowd.

Righteous indignation all over his face.

"Everybody, listen to this. If that's not a rigged slot, what is it?"

"Thomas, you animal, you actually pulled strings to have a post created for you in the civil-service exam. Have you no shame at all?"

The classmates lost it.

Curses came from every direction.

"Thomas, do you even have a conscience?"

"Your family's got money and connections. Can't you just sit at home and coast? Do you have to come fight us ordinary people for entry-level jobs?" "So vicious, hogging a slot and leaving people who actually worked hard with nothing!"

I clicked my tongue, not bothering to argue with them.

I just said flatly,

"Keep reading. Go on."

There were so many conditions attached to this post that the one that mattered, being able to subdue a bison bare-handed, just happened not to be showing on screen.

Lowell bent down, impatiently scrolled, and read on, muttering curses the whole time.

"For applicants of outstanding ability, the physical requirements may be relaxed as appropriate."

The moment he finished that line, he snapped the laptop shut.

His face went crimson as he pointed at my nose.

"Still saying it's not a rigged slot! I remember it perfectly. At the physical, you were only one hundred seventy-nine centimeters."

"Exactly one centimeter short. That relaxed clause was added just for you!"

"You flunked classes all four years of college, you idiot. Where would you get 'outstanding ability'? I bet your family just threw money at it!" I narrowed my eyes and studied Lowell's face, twisted with rage, and I didn't miss the flash of excitement and smugness at the bottom of his eyes.

It was plain as day, the pleasure of a man who wanted nothing more than to grind me into the dirt.

Heat rose in my chest, and I spoke coldly.

"Lowell, why do you look like you want me dead?"

"Have you forgotten? All four years of college, I helped you out constantly. Bought your meals, topped up your phone bill."

"Every time you were broke, wasn't it me who bailed you out?"

Lowell panicked at once and screamed, hysterical.

"Shut up! You just used your money as an excuse, waving that 'helping me out' flag around so you could trample all over my dignity!"

"Ordering me to fetch your takeout every single day, treating me like a dog!"

The classmates around us jumped in the instant they heard it.

"Right, right, I saw Lowell fetch takeout for Thomas all the time. Thomas put on such airs!"

"So vicious! You think money means you can just walk all over people?"

"Living it up on his family's money and rigging the civil-service exam on top of it!"

It was so absurd I nearly laughed out loud.

The truth was Lowell couldn't stand the dining hall food and begged me every day to order takeout, and to throw in a portion for him while I was at it.

How had that turned into me ordering him around and trampling his dignity?

I was about to fire back when Lowell tilted his chin up, gloating.

"Thomas, I've already reported you to the Department of Labor and the school."

"The Department of Labor is coming to investigate any minute now. They'll cancel your admission, the school will expel you, and your whole life is over!"

I laughed, out of sheer anger, finally seeing it clearly. Four years of support, and I'd raised a thoroughly ungrateful animal.

He ate on my dime, lived on my dime, and turned around wanting to put me in the ground.

I was about to tell them the truth when a cold, commanding voice came from the doorway.

"Who's the one accusing someone of cheating on the civil-service exam?"